


Let Bi Johns be Bi Johns

by singularly_obsessed (orphan_account)



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Biphobia, Bisexual John, Coming Out, M/M, ish, not from either jw or sh alls fine, so far all the ficlets have a very clear theme...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/singularly_obsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets drunk, almost gets in a bar fight, and definitely comes out to his pining flatmate via almost bar fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Bi Johns be Bi Johns

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired by [this post](http://acdwatson.tumblr.com/post/127522161509) and made [this post](http://singularlyobsessed.tumblr.com/post/145524910998/sherlock-being-called-to-pick-drunkjohn-up-from-a) to which someone replied, which brought about [this.](http://singularlyobsessed.tumblr.com/post/145623577263/arvit-singularlyobsessed-sherlock-being)

Sherlock entered the pub, scanning for—and there John was, just as “pissed” as the bartender had said. Sherlock rolled his eyes, weaving through the Friday night crowd with more steadiness than any of the designated drivers. He had long unravelled John’s need to socialize (less so copulate), but tonight did not fall under either categories. Neither Lestrade nor Mike had asked after “getting a pint” for months, and John was an average of twenty feet from the nearest women that fit his type. And John was not a habitual drinker out of company.

But as Sherlock moved closer, he realized the bartender had failed to mention John was also _pissed_ , his back ramrod straight despite his swaying, his jaw and fists clenched as the man beside him—stranger, recently dumped by his girlfriend because he cheated (likely with an extended family member—cousin? Most likely)—ranted about something-or-other, half his beer spilled across the bar from being slammed on it every quarter-minute.

And the man must really have hit a nerve; Sherlock had never seen John so enraged. He was still too far away to deduce if the minute trembling was more due to intoxication or anger, but for all parties involved Sherlock knew it wouldn’t matter once John’s fists were brought into action. His bad shoulder inhibited him only so much as the pain it would be in the following morning if Sherlock didn’t step in before—

“—and she’s jus’ a low-draggin cunt if she thinks playing for both sides is _real,”_ the man slurred. “But tha’ innit how it works, mate; one or th’ oth’r’s how it is. But me mate Jonny, he’s on her _side_ , an’ he keeps trying to tell me ’m being phobic or some shit. ”e’s a fuckin cunt too, believing that bisex—”

John had the man’s arm twisted behind his back, face pressed into the cheap wood before his stool had bounced off the floor. He lurched forward, pushing the man’s arm higher as he leaned in to speak in his ear.

“Let. Bi Johns. Be. Bi Johns,” he enunciated carefully, threats from the deepest pits of London buried in his voice. The man beneath him writhed, John’s grip tightening until Sherlock managed to push through the last of the stagnated masses, strangely breathless as he tugged on John’s elbow.

“John, I think it’s time to go,” he murmured, John pursing his lips in return, but releasing the man at another tug on his arm. Sherlock began to guide him away after a glance to the bartender, the crowd parting readily before them.

“Oh I see!” the man shouted, rubbing his wrist, and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to let John at the idiot. “You one of them _bisexuals_ too aren’t’cha? Shoulda fuckin figured.”

John tried to jerk away, but Sherlock caught his shoulders, attempting to pull him backwards as he hissed, “John!”

“Is there a fucking problem with that?” John snarled, and Sherlock stumbled back into a wall, trapping himself for a moment between it and John’s back while he figured out how to work his feet and synthesize _John = bisexual._

“Damn fucking right there is!” the man roared back, shocking Sherlock enough push John to the side and towards the door, the biting night air and subsequent silent cab ride home failing to distract his mind from returning to _John = bisexual John = bisexual John = bisexual._


End file.
